


ZigZag

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, TMNT, Turtle Tots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:05:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 2,539 One shot 2k12<br/>Summary: There are many hidden lessons when learning something new.<br/>Rated: G Turtle Tots</p>
<p>~~Winner in the 2015 TMNT Fan Fiction Competition: 3rd place Best Michelangelo</p>
            </blockquote>





	ZigZag

           “Leonardo, where is your youngest brother?” Master Splinter asked.

            “I don’t know, fath . . . sensei,” Leo said, remembering just in time that they were in the dojo.

            “I’ll get him,” Raphael offered. Rather than leaving the room, he turned his head and bellowed, “Mikey!”

            “Raphael,” Master Splinter said, the stern sound of his voice drawing the turtle tot’s attention back towards him. “We do not shout.”

            “How else is he gonna hear me?” Raph asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

            Master Splinter was saved from a lengthy explanation on manners by the appearance of his youngest son. “It is time for your daily practice, Michelangelo. Why are you late?”

            “’Cause I can’t tell time?” Mikey countered with an ingratiating smile.

            “We do not answer questions with questions my son,” Master Splinter chided him. “Your brothers have all managed to arrive at the correct time.”

            “That’s ‘cause Donnie helps them,” Mikey said with a pout. “They make me late on purpose.”

            “We do not,” Donatello said, glaring at his brother.

            “Do too,” Mikey shot back.

            “Enough,” Master Splinter said sharply, stopping the argument before it could progress down an even more inane path. “Please take your places.”

            His four boys lined up at the edge of the practice rug and kneeled before their father, all of them trying to appear attentive. Master Splinter looked down at them, noticing how Michelangelo’s toes were tracing circles on the floor and wondering, not for the first time, if the boy would ever learn how to be completely still.

            “Today we are going to practice running,” Master Splinter told them.

            Only Leonardo managed to keep his eyes on his father, the other three looked at each other. Master Splinter cleared his throat, drawing their attention back in his direction.

            “But we already know how to run,” Raphael protested, his lips pursing slightly.

            “Maybe we can learn to go faster!” Michelangelo said excitedly.

            Donatello was frowning and Master Splinter asked, “Do you have a question, my son?”

            “Can we practice something else? I don’t like running,” Donnie answered, looking forlorn.

            Raph smirked. “That’s ‘cause you always fall down.”

            Don flushed, looking both angry and embarrassed as he retorted, “My legs are too long.”

            “Yeah, you’ve got chicken legs!” Raph taunted, his grin devilish.

            “Chicken legs,” Mikey repeated with a snort of amusement.

            “Master Splinter . . . .” Don whined, turning pleading eyes in his father’s direction.

            “That is enough,” Master Splinter said, clapping once to show his displeasure. “This is my time now and you will not waste it. Please focus on your lesson.”

            “Yes sensei,” Leonardo said dutifully.

            “Suck up,” Raph muttered under his breath, drawing a sideways glare from his older brother.

            “We are going to practice running,” Master Splinter repeated as though he’d not been interrupted, “but not in a straight line.”

            As soon as Master Splinter finished speaking, he stepped aside so that his sons could look past him. The dojo was filled with obstacles; from chairs in differing states of disrepair, to stacks of cardboard boxes, to piles of old mattresses. There were broken furniture carcasses, a pair of busted toilets, and even an old pinball machine.

            “Hey,” Don said, his eyes alight with interest as they settled on the machine, “I bet I can fix that.”

            “Donnie can fix the game!” Mikey exclaimed, his mind wandering down a path filled with blinking lights and funny sounds.

            Master Splinter closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, finding his inner stores of patience. Teaching his small sons to focus was a daily challenge and sometimes harder than helping the boys to perfect their ninjitsu.

            Opening his eyes, Master Splinter tapped the floor with his walking stick. All four turtles became immediately attentive.

            “This is called an obstacle course,” Master Splinter explained. “The object of this exercise is to run through the obstacles without hitting them and to make as little noise as possible while doing so.”

            “Like when we run through the tunnels but have to stay out of the water?” Leo asked.

            “It is similar,” Master Splinter acknowledged. “The difference here is that you will be learning to weave, to zigzag your way through the obstructions. You will not always have a clear path, especially in the sewers.”

            “We can just jump over stuff,” Raph said, looking pleased with himself. “I jump good.”

            “You jump _well_ ,” Master Splinter corrected. “You cannot jump inside tunnels with low ceilings unless you wish to knock yourself out, Raphael. This exercise will test your balance, your reflexes, and your reaction times. Leonardo, you will go first.”

            Leo was on his feet even before his father stopped speaking. His youthful brow furrowed in concentration, he stood ready, awaiting Master Splinter’s command. As soon as he was given the signal to start, Leo sprinted forward, racing between the first two obstacles and into the makeshift maze.

            The zigzag pattern made it difficult for the tot to achieve a great deal of speed, but Leonardo tried to run as fast as he could. He managed to get through a quarter of the course before striking his first object and knocking it over. The mishap caused him to slow down fractionally, but then he picked up speed again. Before he made it out of the maze he’d bumped into three more things.

            Leo’s shoulders slumped in a dejected manner as he walked back over to Master Splinter’s side. “I wasn’t very good.”

            Master Splinter patted Leo’s shoulder before giving him a gentle push back into line with his brothers. “You did quite well for your first time, Leonardo.”

            Raph laughed, shooting a taunting look at his older brother. “I can do better.”

            “That is not polite, Raphael,” Master Splinter admonished him. “It is now your turn.” He waited for his son to rise and take his place at the starting line and then said, “As you can see, the obstacle course has changed because your brother pushed some things out of their original places. You must adjust your route to accommodate that change. Begin.”

            Practically leaping off the line, Raph darted at lighting fast speed into the course. He passed the first few obstacles much faster than Leo had, but at the first hard curve he couldn’t adjust quickly enough and knocked over a stack of boxes.

            Aggravated, he stopped long enough to kick one of the boxes and then started running again. The zigzag layout had him careening into several more items and then the family heard Raph growl in frustration. Halfway through the course he began sprinting at top speed, ignoring his instructions to run through the maze in favor of leaping over obstacles whenever he could.

            Upon reaching the finish, Raph said not a word, but his eyes dared his brothers to tease him.

            Of course little Michelangelo ignored the warning signs. “That wasn’t better,” he said, blue eyes twinkling.

            “I did it faster than Leo,” Raph argued.

            “But you did not do it correctly,” Master Splinter scolded. “By jumping over the obstacles, you have rendered yourself unconscious. Please go back to the end of the course.”

            Frowning, Raph turned around and trudged towards the spot his father had designated, baffled by the instructions. He stopped when he reached the last pile of obstacles and looked back at Master Splinter.

            “Proceed inside until I tell you to stop,” Master Splinter instructed.

            Raph shrugged and did as he was told. Once he was about five yards inside the maze, his father called for him to stop and then said, “Please lie down and do not move. You have now become a new obstacle for your brothers to avoid.”

            “But Master Splinter . . . .” Raph began to whine.

            “Shizukani!” Master Splinter called out, silencing the boy. The tone was enough to make Raph swallow his complaints and lie down on the ground as he’d been told.

            Michelangelo snickered, biting his tongue when Master Splinter’s stern gaze fell on him. Once he had the attention of all of his boys again, he said, “Donatello, please step up to the line.”

            With a forlorn expression Don moved into position and then at his father’s command dashed into the start of the maze.

            Although he got off to a fast start, it was obvious that caution caught him in its grip right away. As he approached the first hard turn, Don slowed down to a jog, zigzagging to avoid the obstacles in his path. There was a concentrated look on his young face as he moved through the course, as though he was taking the time to memorize the location of every item he encountered.

            “Hurry up, Donny!” Mikey yelled, growing impatient for his turn.

            Don ignored him, continuing his slow pace and avoiding collisions at every turn. Nearing the end of the course a rare wide smile suffused his face, showing the gap in his teeth that he was always trying to hide.

            “I didn’t hit anything, I didn’t hit anyt . . . !”

            The lanky turtle’s chant was cut off mid-sentence when Raph reached out and grabbed his ankle.

            “No~o!” Don shouted as he tripped, falling headlong into a stack of couch cushions. Old and threadbare, the cushions broke upon impact and Don’s head became trapped inside one of them.

            Sitting up quickly, Don frantically clawed at the cushion. Mikey began laughing loudly, clutching at his stomach and falling over in his mirth. Leo tried to hold the laughter back, but it pushed past his lips in a spray of spittle and he clapped his hands over his mouth lest his sensei reprimand him.

            Raph rolled around the floor, howling with laughter at his smart brother’s expense. Don finally managed to pluck the cushion from his head, his face red with embarrassment that quickly turned to anger as he flung the cushion at the offending turtle.

            “You cheated!” Don cried out indignantly. “Master Splinter, he cheated!”

            Master Splinter’s nostrils flared as he worked to contain his mirth. It would be wrong to laugh at any of his children’s misfortune, but there were times when certain absurdities got to him.

            Managing to swallow his amusement before a fight could break out, Master Splinter said, “Raphael, when you are unconscious you cannot move. That was highly inappropriate.”

            “But it was funny,” Raph asserted shamelessly.

            “And it was poor sportsmanship,” Master Splinter added, as though Raph hadn’t spoken. “You will continue to lie there until I give you permission to rise.”

            “For how long?” Raph propped himself up on an elbow to look at his father, his humor replaced by chagrin.

            “Until I feel you’ve learned your lesson,” Master Splinter answered.

            With an exasperated exhale, Raph flopped heavily back on his carapace, crossing his arms over his plastron and staring angrily at the ceiling.

            Don got up and stomped out of the maze, murmuring invectives beneath his breath. When he reached his father, Master Splinter asked, “Did you have something to say Donatello?”

            “I would have won if Raph hadn’t tripped me,” Don stated sullenly. “I didn’t hit a single thing.”

            “But you also did not run as you were directed to do,” Master Splinter pointed out. “It is easy to avoid obstacles if one is moving slowly. Your challenge was to avoid them while proceeding as swiftly as possible.”

            Don’s head hung, his chin quivering slightly. “But I always trip.”

            Master Splinter patted his shoulder soothingly. “You have long legs, my son. They will be an advantage one day, but you must practice controlling them.”

            He watched as Don plopped down next to Leo, who was wiping the moisture from his eyes and trying to behave as though he hadn’t been laughing.

           Young Mikey made no such attempt as he pushed himself upright, pointed at Don and said, “That was a funny hat. You should wear it all the time.”

           His chortling was cut short by Master Splinter. “Michelangelo, come here.”

           Mikey jumped to his feet, undaunted by his father’s sharp tone. “Can I go now? Can I? Can I?”

           “Bet you wreck worse than Donnie,” Raph said, still glaring upward.

           “Will not,” Mikey responded, sticking his tongue out at his brother, who of course could not see it.

           “You always run into everything,” Don said in a nasty tone. “You fall over thin air.”

           “I don’t!” Mikey exclaimed, giving his brother the stink eye.

           “Yes you do,” Leo chimed in, then bit his lip when Master Splinter lifted a finger to indicate he wanted silence.

           “Michelangelo, it is now your time,” Master Splinter said. “Run as quickly as you can and remember to zigzag past the obstacles without touching them.”

           Mikey hunched forward, staring intently at the towers of junk before him. His tongue swept over his lips, his hands clenched and he shot off in a flash as soon as his father said, “Go!”

           He sailed past the first set of obstacles without going near them, his small form twisting aside with ease. As he reached another turning, Mikey spun around a leaning tower of metal bike frames, zigged to dodge a stack of cat carriers, and zagged when he came upon a crisscrossed section of pipes.

           Still moving fast, he high stepped through a line of tires and sprinted through the maze, moving from side to side as his father had advised.

           Leo and Don leaned forward, eyes wide and mouths hanging open as Mikey approached the finish line.

           Once more Raph’s hand shot out, despite his father’s warning.

           “Mikey!” Leo shouted in warning.

           Rather than grabbing an ankle, Raph’s hand closed on thin air as Mikey reeled away from him, avoided Raph’s grip. As he raced past the finish, Mikey could be heard humming to himself.

           “How did you do that?” Don asked incredulously as his brother approached.

           Mikey shrugged. “I dunno.”

           Master Splinter eyed his youngest son speculatively. “You are quite physically gifted, Michelangelo, but I believe it is more than that. It appears that you find a mental void that allows you to react to situations in mere tenths of a second.”

           “Huh? What’s that mean?” Mikey asked, looking puzzled.

           “It means you don’t think,” Don supplied with a grin.

           “It means you’re dumb!” Raph shouted, still pouting inside the maze.

           “At least I’m not stuck in there,” Mikey yelled back.

           “Come my sons, that is enough for one training session,” Master Splinter said, shepherding Leo, Don, and Mikey towards the exit. “It is time to prepare lunch.”

           As the sounds of his family’s footsteps faded, Raph blinked, the angry expression fading to surprise. He was still lying on the floor and began to think he’d been forgotten.

           Then Master Splinter peeked back in and said, “You may join us, Raphael.”

           Hopping to his feet, Raph sped after his father, easily dodging obstacles in his haste to escape. Before he was out of the dojo, Raph skid to a stop and looked back in amazement, barely registering that he’d run through the last part of the maze unscathed.

           Maybe there was something to this not thinking stuff he told himself. And then he snorted derisively.

           “Yeah, right,” Raph said out loud. “More like dumb luck.” Running towards the kitchen, he yelled, “Hey, save some for me!”

**Author's Note:**

> Competition certificate designed and beautifully crafted by Faithful Whispers.  
> 


End file.
